


Freedom

by Tien



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Camerashipping, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-24
Updated: 2015-09-24
Packaged: 2018-04-23 04:16:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4862789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tien/pseuds/Tien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the fall of Murkoff Waylon Park feels lost. He needs someone he can talk to about what happened, but there's no one who understands.<br/>Enter Miles Upshur. After being discovered as the Host, his life now consists of a tiny cell deep underground and daily tests run by well meaning scientists.<br/>Waylon needs someone to talk to, and Miles is the perfect captive audience.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Freedom

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone, I hope you enjoy this new story I'm writing. It's only one of many smaller AU's I'm writing in between chapters of Survivors.  
> This is a slow build fic, but will have MilesWaylon as endgame.

“You’re stuck in the past Mr. Park.”

“Wow, I never would have guessed. Number one therapist in the house, mind blown,” an irritated man on a couch replied. He was running out of patience and his right leg bounced subconsciously up and down as he sat up. “Listen, I know you’re just trying to help, and believe me, I know we’ve been through all the possible avenues but I don’t think this is working.” 

“Mr. Park progress can’t be achieved by giving up.”

“I’m not…who said I was giving up?” He raised his eyes to meet the other man’s. “It’s just…sitting here, talking with you, it helps but it’s not enough. I need more.” 

“Would you care to elaborate?” 

He sighed. “I just need…someone who _gets_ it, you know? Talking with you, it’s like I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Someone who gets it? Like another patient?”

Waylon interjected, “I was never a patient.”

“Yes, I know, but are you looking for someone like that?”

There was a pause in the conversation while Waylon mulled it over. “I…no. I don’t think I’d be comfortable with that. Are you sure none of the staff survived?”

“The ones that did are currently sitting in jail right now…hold on Mr. Park I think I have an idea.” His therapist picked up his phone and hit a speed dial key. Within seconds someone on the other line picked up. “Hello, yes this is Doctor Ritter; I’d like to arrange a meeting with Upshur. Yes I know he’s never spoken with anyone outside of the doctors and scientists that work with him…Oh come on now, I think a bit of social interaction would do him good…With my patient, Mr. Park. Yes, that Park. Oh…I didn’t think of that…He’s behind bars right? Shouldn’t be a problem then. When’s the soonest I can have Mr. Park to meet with him? Today? Yes…that should be fine. Thank you.” He hung up and turned to Waylon. “Well,” he said briskly, “I’ve found you your conversation partner. Someone who’s seen almost identical horrors to you.” 

“Upshur?” Waylon asked, “Miles Upshur?”

“That’s the one.”

“Don’t you think he’d be a bit…hostile? Towards me?”

“I thought so too, but he’s adequately contained, you’ll be monitored, if there’s any threat you’ll be taken out of the situation. Do you want to see him?”

Waylon shifted his weight from leg to the other before replying, “Yeah. I would like to meet with him.” If anything he’d like to apologize. He felt he owed the other man that much.

“Come this way then,” he said and motioned for Waylon to follow. 

They walked down the normal hallway of office rooms and small kitchenettes. Waylon had been down this hallway more times than he could count. Daily therapy sessions turned to weekly ones after months since the fallout of Mount Massive. He was at a Morin facility, one of the biggest. Morin, like Murkoff was a biomedical company, and like Murkoff they held stock in several other corporations. From TV’s to radiators they owned a bit of everything. Unlike Murkoff they didn’t use their outlandish profits on programs designed to hurt and exploit people. 

When Murkoff collapsed under lawsuits and humiliation Morin took over. They bought up most of the companies left when Murkoff fell. Now they were the forefront of medical science and much of the former company was absorbed into Morin. With that, they also took on a few other responsibilities. Waylon’s doctor opened a side panel on the wall and typed in a quick four digit code. A door slid open and they entered a hallway behind the wall. “You are aware that we house several hundred surviving victims of Mount Massive correct?” 

“Of course,” Waylon answered as he followed behind the doctor. “I was made very clear of that fact when I entered into therapy here a year ago.” They descended a staircase and the right wall turned from sheetrock to glass. “Holy shit…” Waylon said. Through the glass he could see lab after lab. “What’s all this?”

“The survivors of Mount Massive have extensive traumas, especially to their ability to regenerate cells. What you see here is our laboratory dedicated to understanding and curing the various new cancer forms that these people have.” He pointed to the back set of lab sections. “Over there is where we are working on new physical therapy tools. Our goal here to save as many lives as we can, and as a bonus understand these new terrifying illnesses so future lives could be saved.”

“Future lives? So you think this will happen again?”

“Perhaps. Maybe not from Murkoff, maybe not from an Engine, but we’re sure we’ll see this strain again someday. It’s better to be prepared than not, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yeah. So are the patients kept down here?”

“Oh no, they have their own building on campus. One with windows, a courtyard and access to fresh air. Down here’s just the labs.”

“Then why are we here?”

“Because,” he said simply, “we are not visiting a patient. We are visiting the Walrider.” 

Waylon stopped in his tracks. “What? You didn’t say anything about that. You said we were seeing Upshur. I’m not going near that monster, I won’t. If you have it then you have an Engine and I’m not going anywhere near that. It got in my head once I won’t let it again.”

“You seem to misunderstand me. We are not Murkoff. We are not continuing with Project Walrider. The Morphogenic Engine is dead.” He could see the fear that manifested in Waylon’s eyes. “Park, please, trust us here. You are going to see Upshur, he’s just…”

“It’s inside him? That creature?”

Dr. Ritter nodded sadly. “Not everyone escaped as fortunate as you. We keep Upshur down here, where he can be monitored at all times. He has the best care, don’t be concerned. But we all know, including him, how dangerous he could be. It’s for everyone’s safety that he be kept down here.” 

Waylon nodded and kept following. “He’s safe?”

“Yes. In fact, since he was brought down here Upshur hasn’t once expressed a dangerous level of aggression.”

“But he was aggressive?”

“Wouldn’t you be if you woke up strapped to a table and informed you had to spend the rest of your life in a cell?”

He hadn’t considered that and said nothing in reply. They walked through more sterile white halls and a few that looked like stainless steel. There was another set of staircases that they had to descend, at least ten full flights. “Quite the workout,” Waylon commented.

“Wait until you have to go back up. This won’t be a problem for you, will it? If so we can take the equipment elevator back to the top floor.” 

Waylon’s hand went subconsciously to his right leg. “I’ll be fine.” 

“We have to keep him deep underground, chances are he won’t break out, but in case he does we’d like to put as much distance between him and the rest of the facility as we can. This gives us the chance to station more guards or, in the worst case scenario detonate the only way out, trapping him down here.” 

At the bottom of the stairwell they were greeted with another locked door. This one required a passcode and keycard to access what was behind it. The door was heavy and automatically unlocked and slid into the wall when presented with the card and password. They walked passed and it shut tight, steel bars locking back into place. Once in the new hallway there were guards every fifteen feet. They passed another set of labs, Waylon was reassured that the glass was reinforced and could handle high caliber rifle rounds. Another door appeared on their right after the labs; they took it and were in yet another hallway. This one was void of guards. Soon they ended up in a brightly lit section of hallway, with rooms on the left side. Most had doors with a single window facing the hallway. But they eventually reached a set of three that were nothing but thick bars for one whole wall.

Dr. Ritter stopped at the middle one. It was here that Waylon got his first look at Miles Upshur. He was lying on a bed, reading a book. He was dressed in a plain white t-shirt and jeans, not the typical dress of a prisoner. The room was white and bare. A desk sat on the opposite wall of the bed, a short dresser was placed beside the bed and there was one portable privacy wall. Waylon could see the bottom of a toilet behind it from where he stood. “Mr. Upshur, I’ve brought you a guest.”

“Julian?” He asked sitting up quickly. There was a brightness in his eyes that died when he saw who it was. “Oh. It’s you.” 

“This is-“

“I know who it is. What’s he here for?”

“Well, I thought you two could talk. You have some shared experiences that would beneficial to talk about.” 

“Right…well ok.” Miles stood up and seemed to wobble a bit before he steadied himself. “Sure, we’ll talk. Leave us, would you?” 

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

Miles rolled his eyes, “What am I going to do?” He pointed to several cameras around the room and hall. “I’m monitored every second of my life, you have guards two rooms down with automatic rifles, I can only fit my half my arm through these bars, the only oversight I see honestly, and I’ve never once acted out in all the time you’ve kept me down here. “

“I’m just not sure you should be left alone with someone, it is your first social interaction outside of-“

“Just leave,” Waylon said. “I’ll stay over here; he can’t hurt me from over here.”

“I’m not…” Miles looked down. “I’m not gonna hurt anyone.” He looked so defeated saying that. His shoulders slumped and he half turned away from his visitors. When Dr. Ritter finally did leave Miles said quietly, “What are you here for Waylon?”

“You knew who I was, how?”

Miles laughed in a failed attempt to lighten the mood. “It’s hard not to know your face when it’s plastered on every media outlet for a month. “The man who brought down Murkoff”.” He turned back to Waylon and gave him a small smile. “Before you ask, they let me have the paper down here, and access to a computer. Of course, I can’t talk about anything or reach out to anyone, but it’s better than nothing.” He stepped forward a few paces and clumsily sat down. “What’s up? Why’d you feel the need to visit the monster under the facility?” 

“Do you really think you’re a monster?” Waylon blurted.

“I don’t know,” Miles said and shrugged. “Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. The nanites are still inside me. There are tests that the scientists can do to prove it, so clearly I’m still the Host. I’m just not sure what else that makes me.” 

Waylon stepped forward as well and sat down. When Miles raised an eyebrow he said, “I don’t really think you’re going to hurt me. To be honest, I said that to get Dr. Ritter to leave.”

“Why are you here?”

“To talk. About…Mount Massive I guess.” Waylon also shrugged, it seemed like shrugging was the common body language of the day. “I need someone who understands, who knows.”

“I see…” Miles nodded. “Sure lets talk. Where do you want to start?” 

“With I’m sorry.”

Miles rolled his eyes. “Oh don’t tell you blame yourself for what happened?”

“Well…I mean, aren’t you mad at me?”

He snorted. “Of course I was, but I’m not now. I’ve had a year to cool down.” His eyes narrowed and Waylon suddenly felt chilled. There was a sudden coldness in his grey eyes that caught Waylon off guard. “Of course it would be easy to blame you. To hate you. If you hadn’t contacted me when you did I wouldn’t have ended up there. I wouldn’t be stuck down here. People wouldn’t fear me. But,” he said a bit brighter, the anger vanished from his face. “That’s stupid. You didn’t make me get in my Jeep and drive to the asylum. You weren’t the one who made me keep going once inside. You didn’t stop me from jumping out a ground floor window, or hopping a fence and getting the hell out of there.” Miles gestured to everything around him. “This is all my fault, plain and simple. I’ve come to accept that.”

“Oh…”

“You thought I’d be pissed didn’t you? That I’d want to cause you some form of harm that would equal my own?”

“Maybe not that far…”

“Well, I can tell you’re already as wounded as I am, if not worse, so I’d say we’re even.” Waylon put his head in his hands. “Oh, shit, I didn’t mean…”

Waylon’s shoulders started to shake as he laughed. “Am I honestly that much of a mess?”

When he looked up Miles could see tears gathering in his eyes. “No, no, it’s just like you said though. You needed someone who can understand. I can tell you’re in pain. Do you think I wouldn’t recognize the haunted look in your eyes? It’s the same look in mine.” 

“Do you get nightmares?”

“Of course.”

“Even though you’re the Host?”

“Especially because I’m the Host.” 

“What do you dream of? You’re at the top of the food chain, what could you be afraid of?”

Before answering Miles thought for a bit. “You assume that every dream I have I’m already the Host. Most of my dreams star my human self; I’m always running from something. Typically it’s Chris or Trager. Sometimes I relive things that have happened to me, most of-“

“Yes!” Waylon said excitedly. “The same thing happens with me! I dream of being trapped, or chased down long corridors. The metallic smell of blood is still fresh in my mind even though it’s been months since the riot.” 

“Do you ever have happy dreams?”

“Sometimes,” Waylon said.

“Well, tell me. What do you dream about when you’re not reliving hell?” 

Waylon shrugged. “It’s nothing, not interesting. You wouldn’t want to hear about it.”

Miles was laughing again. “You’re the first piece of human contact I’ve had outside of scientists. I want to hear it. I’ve got nothing better to do.” He leaned back on his hands. “Tell me what happy dreams you have.” 

“Well, I’m a father, first off.” Waylon added quickly, “Not in like a dream way, in a real way. I have two sons.” Miles smiled and motioned for him to continue. “Well, I have dreams that we’re still a family. It’s the small stuff, eating dinner together, picking them up from school, or going to the park. I swear, I’ve been to that dream playground so much I have it memorized. Sometimes I dream about my wife. Er, ex-wife now, I…I guess.” 

“Shit, Murkoff didn’t…they didn’t hurt your family before they were served with the massive court orders did they?” 

“No, they’re alive. I guess I dream about them because I’m too fucked up to be with them.”

“What do you mean?” Miles asked, even though he already knew.

“That place changed me Miles. I’m not the same man that I was when I took that job. At first we tried to work through it. Therapists, counseling, Lisa she, she tried so hard. We wanted it to work, but we both agreed that it would be best to separate while I got ahold of myself.” 

“Wouldn’t that just make you worse? I mean I know I would have been better off with friends or family during recovery.” 

“I had to think of the boys. They were scared and worried…those first few months, I had really bad panic attacks. The smallest things seemed to trigger them; a dog chain rustling in the backyard, the heat of an oven on my arm, the sound of a saw, even the world “darling” would set me off.” 

Waylon looked so helpless while he explained. “I would just go into these episodes, Lisa couldn’t understand, the kids were afraid. We figured it’d be better if they weren’t near me. They didn’t need to see their father break down every other day. I still see them, but it’s not the same.” 

His head was back in his hands when he felt something touch his shoulder. When he looked up found Miles reached through the bars to lay a comforting hand on him. “I’m sorry, I truly am. You deserve that family.” Miles’ hand was cold, really cold, like a corpse was touching him. He shivered. 

“I’m better now,” Waylon said quietly. “I don’t freak out much anymore. But the nightmares, I can’t chase them away. And the good dreams get swallowed by the bad ones.” 

“Hey,” Miles said and made Waylon look up at him. “You’ll be fine, you hear me? You’ll be fine.”

He nodded. “What else do you dream about Miles? I cut you off.” 

“That’s not important right now; I’d to hear more about you. You’re far more interesting than me, I guarantee it.” 

Waylon didn’t press him, instead he talked. He talked about himself, about his life before Mount Massive and after. For some reason he found it really easy to open up to Miles. He even told him things he hadn’t told his own therapist. It came naturally and Miles didn’t seem to mind listening. He would nod along with what he was saying and ask questions and prompt Waylon to talk about how he felt. Honestly, it felt good. He was enjoying this conversation. Even the hard things were slightly easy to talk about. 

He knew that Miles wouldn’t judge him. He’d finally found someone who he felt comfortable talking with. “Hey,” Miles said suddenly, cutting off a story Waylon was telling. “I don’t mean to be rude, I really don’t. I want to know more about how you and Lisa got together, but I’m exhausted.”

“Could…could we pick this up again?” 

“Yeah, if you want to come back. I’m not going anywhere.” 

Waylon stood up, noticing how stiff his legs were. “I’d like that, a lot actually.” He watched Miles stand; the other man seemed to be having some difficulty getting to his feet. When he did he swayed and used the bars as support. “You ok?”

“Yeah,” he said quickly. “Legs fell asleep, that’s all.” 

Waylon gave him a small smile. “Thank you, this was nice. I enjoyed it.”

“Hey the feeling’s mutual. This was a nice change of pace for me.” 

As expected Dr. Ritter came to meet Waylon and lead him back up to the lobby. “So, how’d it go?” 

“Good. Could I see him again?”

He seemed surprised but nodded. “We can arrange another meeting in a day or so. The scientists would like to monitor if this interaction did anything to Upshur.” 

“Did anything? What do you mean?”

“We have to monitor his mental state very closely. The nanites respond to his mood and we don’t want to change his environment too quickly. Just talking with you could have changed something. We need to make sure he stays stable and safe before we proceed with more meetings.” 

Those last words followed Waylon all the way home. “Make sure he’s safe…” When they were talking Waylon never got the impression that Miles was dangerous. Not in the way they were implying. He couldn’t understand how a man as normal looking as Miles could be dangerous. If anything, he felt like the restraints on Miles were over the top. At least they let him have bedding and a computer. He hoped that he hadn’t just ruined the man’s life any more than he already had. 

It didn’t matter if Miles told him not to let it bother him, it still did. He felt responsible for trapping him down there. It wasn’t fair that Miles had to spend the rest of his life underground while he got to be free. Miles was only there to help, the same thing he was originally too cowardly to do. It wasn’t right. But there wasn’t anything he could do to fix it. 

\---

“Miles can see you again,” Dr. Ritter said after their session. It had been about a week since the first meeting between the two had been arranged. “Would you like to visit him? He has an opening for a few hours.” 

“I would have liked some notice, but yes. I would like that.” Waylon followed him back down the stairs and hallways that led the way to Miles’ containment cell. 

This time Miles was sitting up and watched them approach. “Waylon?” He said. “I didn’t think you’d come back, honestly.” He stood and walked over to the bars. “Came to finish your story?”

He was caught off guard. “If, if you want. I wasn’t sure you cared.” 

“Of course I do. It was the most interesting thing I’d heard all month,” he said sitting down. “Unless you don’t want to talk about that. I’m all ears for whatever you want to discuss.” Miles watched Waylon sit down and this time he raised an eyebrow. 

“What?” Waylon said when he finally got into place.

“I’m terribly sorry for not noticing on our first meeting, but is your leg a prosthetic?” 

“How could you tell?” Waylon hardly noticed his leg anymore, he was surprised that someone else could spot that it was anything but normal.

“I’m very perceptive, or, I was. My skills have dulled quite a bit in this place.” Miles said with a slight smile. “When you sat down I noticed your right leg didn’t move like the other, you seem to favor it too, when you stand or walk. I should have noticed earlier but I wasn’t all there last time we met, unfortunately.” 

Waylon pulled his pant leg up, exposing a leg made of mechanical moving parts. “Yeah, it is, up to my knee.”

“Let me guess, Morin brand?” 

“Yeah, complimentary after what happened.” 

“Can I see?” 

Waylon shrugged. “Why not?” He pulled off his shoe and rolled is pant leg all the way up. “I’m part of a trial actually, for fully functioning toes and rotating joints that I can control with my brain.” He flexed his toes and watched as they curled and uncurled. “My ankle is a little stiff but when I’m walking it can seem pretty natural.” 

Miles reached out and touched the smooth plastic of the leg. “Why didn’t you get a skin cover?”

“I like seeing the insides,” he said simply. “I work with computers and programs all day, so seeing the components that go into my own leg is pretty cool.” He held his leg up and pointed to a space just below the knee. “Here’s the air intake and exhaust holes. Just like a computer, the components in here need to be cooled too. There are actually small fans in here that circulate air. They were going to try a liquid based cooling system but it ended up being too heavy.”

“I read about these online, when they were in development. The hardware in there is amazing.” 

“Yeah,” Waylon agreed. “It can pick up the tiniest electrical impulses from my brain. Since they removed my whole leg surgically and there wasn’t much damage to the nerves in the upper half they were able to do a perfect bond. It’s amazing.” 

Miles’ fingers lingered on the case. He blinked a few times to clear his mind, he didn’t like the way he focused on the electronics, it was like when he used his computer. Like part of him was trying to connect with the machinery inside. He took away his hand. “How’d you lose your leg?”

“Mount Massive. I fell down an elevator shaft, got a piece of metal stuck through my lower calf muscle, apparently I damaged a bunch of nerves down there. I could walk on it, but they suggested I just get the whole thing removed and replaced. I can walk normally now, instead of the permanent limp I would have had.” He left out the part where he was being chased by Eddie. That wasn’t important and he didn’t want to relive any of those memories. 

“These are expensive, you’re lucky you got it for free.”

Waylon laughed. “I could have afforded it even without the charity.”

“Really? Murkoff paid their software engineers that well?”

“Hell no, but they pay their suit winners handsomely. Even after splitting most of it with Lisa I’m still a multi-millionaire.” 

“Jesus Park, what are you doing down here with me? You could be on a yacht or a beach or something drinking those little martinis with the umbrellas in them on a gold beach chair.” 

He shrugged and sighed. “Most of the money’s been going to medication I take and charity. I can’t bring myself to spend it on personal items, nor do I really do well in public situations. I bought a tiny house near this Morin campus and just try to go day by day. I even have a job again.”

“That’s a shame Park, I’d be out there living it up.”

“I bet you would. I feel bad now, squandering my freedom while you don’t get any.”

Miles patted Waylon on the shoulder. “Don’t feel too bad,” he said. “I’m slowly adjusting to life here. It’s not that bad,” he laughed. “I get three meals a day, a hot shower, and all the free needle pokes I could ever want. Plus,” he added. “Since I’m on good behavior they let me have a privacy wall so I can shit and take a piss in peace.”

Waylon was relieved a small bit by that. It seemed like Miles kept himself in high spirits. “So, I guess you don’t get any visitors?”

“I can’t have any,” he replied. “Maybe because I’m dangerous or whatever, but mostly because they can’t let anything about Project Walrider get out. I’m hosting a top secret bioweapon, that news can’t be known to the public. So, only people who already knew about the project are allowed to see me, or Morin scientists. But those guys are already to sworn to secrecy or whatever.”

“So that means me and the executives or other surviving patients?”

“Yup. And I’m not interested in speaking with any of the assholes from Murkoff and I’d rather let the poor surviving patients rest. No need to drag them back to a place they’d rather escape.” 

Waylon knew it was a stupid question but he still had to ask it. “Don’t you get lonely?”

“Of course.” Waylon could see the sadness leak into Miles’ expression. “Of course I get fucking lonely. The guards don’t talk to me; the scientists only ask me relevant questions to the experiments. There’s only a few people who I think genuinely care about me. And none of them are in the room monitoring me right now!” He raised his voice slightly and gave one of the cameras the finger. 

“Who’s Julian?” Waylon asked. “You said his name before you saw it was me. Is he a friend?”

He frowned and looked at the floor. “Yeah. The only one I had. You have no idea how many times I’ve asked to see him, or at least talk to him. He’s probably worried sick, if he hasn’t given me up for dead yet.” 

“No family?”

“Not like yours.” 

“Oh.” Waylon suddenly felt horrible for bringing it up. “Hey, so, you got to ask me about my missing limb, now it’s my turn. What happened to your hands? Murkoff or something else?”

“Murkoff,” Miles said. “There was this asshole, Richard Trager. He used to be some executive but the Engine scrambled his brains. Thought he was a doctor. He cut off my fingers to ‘sell me the dream’ or whatever.” He wiggled his hands showing off the nubby remains of his right pointer finger and the nearly cleanly cleaved off left ring finger. “Turns out becoming the Host doesn’t give me the ability to regrow missing fingers.”

“Does it give you any abilities?”

Miles laughed. “Maybe,” he said. “They all seem scared enough of me. I’m sure it comes with some benefits. I controlled the swarm once, back on Mount Massive. I killed some asshole at the front door. It’s one of the only things I remember clearly before passing out on the front steps.”

“What’s the other thing you remember?”

“Some other asshole driving away in my Jeep.”

Waylon burst out laughing. “That was me!” He laughed some more. “I can’t believe it, I’m the asshole who took your Jeep, you…” Waylon looked into Miles eyes, he was glad to see amusement reflected in them. “You saved my life. Thank you.” 

“No problem. I mean I’m not really sure I knew full well what I was doing. But hey, you did what I couldn’t, get the story out, destroy Murkoff. At least something good happened.” 

“Yeah, nothing felt better than watching those monsters get what they deserved.”He took to observing Miles. Something seemed different about him today. Like he was more attentive and way more talkative. Maybe he was enjoying the company. “So you just passed out?”

“Yeah, I watched you drive away, then the next thing I know I wake up strapped to a bed in some hospital.” Miles frowned. “Apparently I got angry, or upset, or maybe the Walrider inside me panicked, but I got aggressive. Someone died. After that they discovered that I was the host and my security was tightened.” When he saw Waylon look concerned he added hastily, “But I’m fine now. I don’t even feel the Walrider anymore. Even the buzzing in my head’s gone. You don’t have to worry.” 

Relaxing Waylon said, “Hey, thanks for responding to my email. I think you’re the only one who did.” 

“I’m always up for to expose Murkoff. I’ve been working on bringing that company down for years.”

“I know,” Waylon said. “I read your report on the water crisis. It’s why I contacted you. I figured there’d be no one better to send than someone who was already used to their bullshit.” 

“But you emailed others?”

“Yeah for backup. I wasn’t sure if you were even in America at the time. If I was going to bother breaking all these rules I might as well make it worth it.”

“About that, why didn’t you just wait until your time at Murkoff was up? You said you were a contract worker?” 

“You remembered?”

“I don’t forget much.”

Waylon didn’t have a clear answer for why he acted in such haste. “I don’t know. I should have waited. The first few days I was a patient I kept running the scenario over and over again in my head. In-between the corrupted thoughts brought on by the Engine I did stop to wonder. Why hadn’t I just waited? I was almost done with my contract; if I had just waited I wouldn’t have had any of this happen to me. “

“Or maybe nothing would have happened at all. That riot might have still gone on; only this time there would have been no one in there to witness it, no one to report it, and nothing to find when Murkoff finally cleaned house. Maybe your eagerness to get help really did make all the difference.”

“Yeah, well it sure screwed us over.”

“Two lives for hundreds others? I think I’ll take that.” Miles looked around, Waylon couldn’t figure out what he could be looking for. There weren’t any other people around and Miles’ room was almost empty. “I’d rather not sacrifice myself, but if it keeps Project Walrider out of the wrong hands, and stops Murkoff from hurting others, well…I guess it is what it is.”

“You don’t think Morin is going to use you?” 

“I doubt it. No one has seemed interested in having me invoke the Walrider. In fact, they are taking great care to have me not use that.” 

Waylon agreed. Morin didn’t seem like the type of corporation bent on taking over the world. Though, what did Waylon know about corrupt corporations? He worked for one. Before they could talk about anything else, Dr. Ritter appeared flanked by two guards and a scientist.

“Shit,” Miles muttered. 

“What’s wrong? Should we not have talked about that?”

“No, no, that’s fine. They don’t care about that. It’s time for testing. Sorry, about that. We’ll have to cut todays conversation here.”

“I’ll see you again?”

Miles stood up, confident this time, not unsteady like before. “Yeah, yeah you can see me again. Provided they permit it. You know I could use the company.” 

“Can’t have you dying of boredom down here. I’ll try to set something up.”

“I look forward to it.”

As Waylon was escorted out he realized something. He was looking forward to it too. 

\---

It was five days before Waylon could gain access to Miles’ cell again. The doctors and scientists were very pleased with the positive affect that conversations were having on Miles. “For smart people,” Waylon thought, “They sure are dumb. Of course Miles would want human interaction; you can’t take that away from a person.” Waylon couldn’t imagine being completely isolated. Sure he shut himself away from the world, away from his family, but he still went outside on occasion. He had contact with his therapist, he saw his boys, he met with Lisa. He was alone, but it was the type of loneliness where he was surrounded by people.

Not like Miles. Miles was alone in every sense of the word. 

Waylon waited for the heavy steel door to slide out of the way before heading down the rest of the hallways. From there his escorts left him. He knew the way to Miles’ cell and they trusted him to walk to it. It wasn’t like he could get very far without security intercepting him. Everything was monitored in these lower levels anyways. 

He reached Miles cell and called in, “Hey Miles! I’m back to bore you to death with conversation.” When there was no answer he called again, “Miles?” He could see his body lying on the bed. “Are you asleep? Should I not have come?” 

There was a groan from the bed and an arm rose up to rub eyes and press on a forehead. “Shhhiiiiiit.” 

“Miles?”

He sat up but needed both arms to keep himself upright. “S’ok. S’all good.” Miles swung his legs to the side of the bed and stared long and hard at the wall. His eyes didn’t seem to focus. “I thought they’d give me more time.” 

“Are you ok?”

“I’mfine…Jussst give measec.” His voice was thick and slurred. When he finally stood up he wobbled dangerously and almost fell over. He took a few steps slowly; with each one he seemed less and less sure. Somehow he managed to make it to the bars before falling to the floor. 

“Woah, hey, Miles. You are not ok. Are you sick? Do you need help? Should I call someone?”

“No, no, it’sok.” Miles was shaking slightly. “I’m sorry.” He forced his words out slowly, so they all made sense. “I didn’t want you to see me like this.” 

“Like what?” Waylon knelt down so he could be on Miles’ level. “I’m really worried about you.” 

Miles let his head rest against the cool bars. “The drugs haven’t worn off yet,” he said.

“Drugs? Wait…” Waylon looked horrified. “They drugged you?”

“Everyday,” he said with a weak smile. “First time y’saw me I was just coming off of them, second time was b’fore they gave me any. You weren’t supposed t’ be here so early.” He groaned as the world swirled. “Not gonna be a good conversation partner today. Sorry.” 

“Oh my god…I can’t believe…why?”

“Later,” Miles said, pressing harder against the bars. “Explain later. When my head isn’t swimming.” 

“Should you go back to bed? Should I call someone to help you?”

“No. I’mfine. Best I sleep it off.” He gripped the bars hard and tried to sit up. But his strength wasn’t there, he just fell back down. Miles knew Waylon was extremely worried. He hated that he made him feel that way. “Don’t worry, everyday remember?” He pulled himself up to full height, Waylon followed his every move. “Fine. See?” But his vision blurred and found himself falling again. 

This time Waylon caught him, he stuck his arms through the bars and caught Miles before he could hit the floor. “I got you, I got you,” he said. “Get your feet under you, you got this.” He heard Miles chuckle in his ear, his voice soft. “You sure you can make it to your bed?”

“I walked over here didn’t I?”

“Barely,” Waylon said. 

Waylon was still holding him steady when he heard the footsteps of people quickly approaching. He hoped they were here to help Miles but instead they held up rifles and pointed them at Miles. “Mr. Park please step away from Project Walrider.”

“What?”

“You are not allowed to be that close to him, please release your hold and step away from the bars.” 

“Oh yeah, because he’s clearly in a state where he’s able to harm me. Look at him, he can’t even stand up, Jesus you should be helping him not pointing guns at him.” 

“Step away,” they repeated.

“Way…Waylon just let go, I’m ok.” Miles tried to smile, he tried to look brave. “They’re just doing their job, step back.”

“But-“

“Damnit Waylon, I don’t wanna lose the only visitor I get.”

He couldn’t argue with that. Gently he let go and Miles leaned heavily on the bars. “I’ll come back ok? Another day, when you’re ok to talk with.”

“Yeah, thanks.” 

Miles managed to stagger his way back to his bed and flop over. One of the guards called in, “Do we need to dose you again Walrider?”

“No,” Miles said into his pillow. “I can barely walk I’m fine.” 

Waylon’s anger flared but he didn’t say anything. He couldn’t believe they were treating him this way. Dr. Ritter came to collect him shortly after. While they were going up the stairs Waylon said, “How can you be ok with that?”

“It’s part of his containment process.”

“Containment process? He’s a human not a wild animal!” Waylon balled his fists. “Have you ever talked with him? He’s just like you or me; he doesn’t need to be drugged until he can’t walk. This is out of line!”

“Mr. Park, I know you’re upset but you don’t know what we’re dealing with here. Miles might look like a human to you; he might talk like one, and make you believe he is one. But he’s not. That’s Project Walrider and frankly Mr. Park; you’re not the only one who’s seen what it can do. I’d rather not take the chance that it could get out, and I’m sure the higher ups agree with me.”

“But it’s not right! You’re not right!”

“I’m not Upshur’s doctor. Shit, I’m not even his therapist. I’m yours. If you have a problem bring it up with the people who work with him, but I’m telling you right now, they won’t agree with you. And word of advice next time.”

“Yeah?”

“When the guards tell you to do something you do it. Security around Project Walrider is strict. They don’t mess around.”

“I was just…” Waylon trailed off.

“That’s not a human down there, that’s a monster in a cage.” 

**Author's Note:**

> A fun fact about the name of Murkoff's rival company:  
> Morin is one of the other common names you see on products scattered around Outlast. They're on the radiators and a few other odds and ends. The name comes from the co-founder of Red Barrels.  
> I reference an article that Miles wrote about Murkoff cheating people out of water. The guy had it in for that company long before Mount Massive was a thing.
> 
> I'm hoping to have shorter chapters with this story. If any of you read Survivors then you know I'm known for writing stupidly long chapters. Hopefully this will be a much shorter, more streamlined story, as there's not much they can do in a cell underground.  
> The camerashipping aspect will come in later, I'm going to try to build this up slowly.  
> Anyways, I'd love to know what you think, I live off of comments and it's really important to me to get feedback on what I write, especially this early in a story. Tell me what you liked, what you didn't like, I'm all ears.


End file.
